


kirari futari

by spells



Series: 18.555 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Brazil, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Post-Timeskip, Sequel, pls get them out of my brain, they are my everything so i had to write more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27785413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spells/pseuds/spells
Summary: The rising sun reflects on their wedding rings, and the low tide makes the seafoam look like it’s sparkling.They’re forever.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma
Series: 18.555 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2032744
Comments: 5
Kudos: 90





	kirari futari

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is a sequel to another one of my fics, [you, wherever you are](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26318095), and works almost as a short, sweet epilogue. you might be able to read this if you didn't read ywya first, but i definitely recommend you check it out.  
> there's also a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6eNxpyyyNPIQZLiOzzNPyR?si=oG3-fQy9RuGA2CAACLeY_A) originally made for the first fic but that works just as perfectly for this one.  
> enjoy!

None of the beaches in Rio are ever completely empty, but they’re so much more peaceful in the evenings. There’s not much besides people taking walks, some groups of teens chatting and playing guitar, and of course the high activity of the bars and restaurants across the road.

Still. If Kenma focuses solely on the sea, everything feels quiet. The heat doesn’t feel as abrasive, even if he’ll never get used to it. Everything fades, everything but the soft sound of the waves, coming and going, the tide rising gently with every back-and-forth.

In the evening, the sand isn’t scorching hot, and maybe just a little warm with remnants of the day that went by. He sits with his knees to his chest and buries his toes in the sand, and all the metaphors of sand slipping through fingers make even more sense when you’re in Rio.

He likes it here. He didn’t think he’d like it here — maybe when your heart feels full, you’re apt to get used to anything. Appreciate everything else.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket when it rings, and accepts the call immediately.

“Kenma, are you at the beach?”

Being with Shouyou makes anything good. Kenma keeps getting sappier — his heart is thawing more, he’s getting old. His comebacks don’t come as quick as they once did. With each passing day, ring tanlines and fully-black hair, he feels more peaceful.

“Mhm.”

“Can you pick up ketchup from the grocery store on your way back? There isn’t any. Frozen pizza is not an edible food if it doesn’t have ketchup.”

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Kenma! Will you be long?”

“No. Might leave right now.”

“Okay, darling. See you soon!”

Kenma’s gotten old enough that his heart doesn’t race anymore. He’s almost thirty, now; there’s no more teenagehood left in his system. Instead, Shouyou makes him feel full, warm, bright. When he stands up, nothing aches, he’s not tired. He can feel his whole body being alive, all of his cells breathing, and it’s the calmest sensation in the world.

They’re still at that same airbnb. The ceiling fan seems louder every time they come back, and the décor changes every year. Shouyou likes coming back to Rio for a little while when the league is off-season, to meet up with Heitor, Nice and Pedro, to play beach volleyball again. It’s a coming home, even when home is Rio, and São Paulo, and Tokyo and all of Miyagi. They’ve grown familiar with the world — Shouyou likes to say it makes them unstoppable, because there’s nothing they couldn’t adapt to. Kenma always thinks of that cliché, of making a home out of being with Shouyou instead of being somewhere specific, but he never speaks up.

Kenma knows Shouyou’s feeling romantic when he listens to the classics — Carinhoso, Baby, and their song. Chega de Saudade, all the first words in Portuguese Kenma learnt. It plays, the flute carrying through the air, when Kenma opens the door, and when he enters the kitchen, Shouyou’s humming along to the tune.

“I’m not sure how much of a romantic meal frozen pizza is.”

Shouyou turns to him with a smile, and kisses him like he didn’t say anything. Growing old with him, and beside him, means that none of this surprises Kenma anymore. No more of his kisses can take him aback, and instead he invariably leans in and kisses Shouyou back with the same intensity.

“You smell like the beach,” Shouyou says, leaving a kiss on his cheek before pulling back. “And anything can be romantic if your love is strong enough.”

“So you’re extremely sappy tonight, then.”

“What can I say,” Shouyou shrugs, and the smile on his face must have diffused its way into Kenma’s bloodstream, because he’s smiling too, and he doesn’t want to stop, “maybe I’m in love.”

Kenma’s never taken his wedding ring off since the day of the ceremony. He hugs Shouyou from behind and rests his hands over his, and the two bands of gold couldn’t be anything but a pair.

  
  


They attend each other’s tournaments, they wear jerseys for each other’s teams; Shouyou’s version of Kenma’s e-sports team’s has Kodzuken imprinted on the back, but the Asas shirt he gives Kenma is personalised, just like the MSBY one had been; Kodzuken, #5, a sickly-sweet mix of past and present. Before the wedding, Shouyou argues changing his last name, asks Kenma to consider his jersey with Kozume written across the shoulders. It fills Kenma with satisfaction, the ultimate proof of belonging, but he won’t let him.

In São Paulo, they compromise, and come home from the animal shelter with both a kitten and a puppy. Their apartment, with a stock trader’s income and a professional athlete’s salary, can handle it. Go, the kitten, with short grey fur and a piece of his ear missing, and Ninja, the puppy, spotted with white and black and brown and with the sweetest brown eyes. They hit it off, and make a mess. Oddly enough, it never bothers them; Shouyou always laughs when he comes home from practice to Ninja running around the living room, and Kenma starts to not mind waking up to Go’s kitty-licks.

They don’t miss a single Pride. The first attendance makes Kenma’s heart race, so many people and so much love, the music loud and the streets colourful. He sees every flag, he wraps one around his shoulders and pulls Shouyou in for a kiss. It’s overjoying. Shouyou laughs into his kiss, and it’s a love declaration. For their second year, they’re guests, and stand on top of the trio elétrico as a symbol, as an expression of love. They know they’re both niche celebrities, but they can’t bring themselves to care. From up here, the colours seem brighter, the love seems louder, the pride rings true. Kenma can’t stop smiling.

There are slow mornings with grocery store breakfast, and evenings dim with red wine and fancy cheese. There are dinner dates and movie screens, vows renewed just between the two of them, promises for times to come, the words Shouyou never fails to bring right out of Kenma’s mouth.

There’s going back to Japan, Kuroo’s visits to Brazil, World Championships and Grands Prix and Olympics that take them all around the globe. They hold hands when they’re in planes — Shouyou’s always gotten a little jittery, but they fall asleep on each other’s shoulders and cramped hours fly by.

Even when it becomes a part of the everyday, love can never be mundane. It’s forever beautiful.

The sun rises out of the ocean in Rio just like it did in Tokyo. Kenma convinces Shouyou to come with, to sit on the beach when the sand is cold from the night, when the smell of salt is faint and the wind wins the battle with the sun.

They don’t say anything. Kenma could sit like this forever, and with the way Shouyou holds his hand, he bets he could, too.

“I love you.” Shouyou’s usually the one to interrupt their silences. Kenma does it, now, and Shouyou turns his head to look at him.

“I love you too.”

The rising sun reflects on their wedding rings, and the low tide makes the seafoam look like it’s sparkling.

They’re forever.

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from the song by the same name by mamerico. please listen to it. it's stunning.  
> thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this, consider a kudo, a comment or a bookmark. words can't describe how happy that'll make me.


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